


Ghosts

by Tavam (nekonexus)



Series: Lifestream AU [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-01
Updated: 2005-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-12 14:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekonexus/pseuds/Tavam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When someone you didn't know you were waiting for reappears in your life, can you just pick up where you left off?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime post-game, pre-Advent Children, I guess. Relies only on the FFVII in-game canon assumption that after the Temple of Ancients encounter with Sephiroth, Tseng went missing and was presumed dead (at least he never turns up again in the game).

After the Lifestream faded and all the fuss died down, Midgar fell back into its old pattern fairly quickly. The rich moved elsewhere, of course, because they could afford to. The poor moved back into the city, started carving out a life again from the rotted and desiccated shell of an empire. They had nowhere else to go. The only difference was, there was no choice about life above or below the pizza. People lived wherever they could clear away enough scrap and debris to make a safe space.

Someone needed to oversee the mess, of course. For life to go on, there were basic necessities to restore: water, sewers, some form of electricity. A few hardy souls from the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company had survived, and there were a handful of Turks still around. Not much of a structure or power base to build from, but it was better than nothing.

No one said Neo Midgar needed a mayor. Reeve took that on himself, just as he'd taken on the evacuation, and the eventual reconstruction plans. Long hours, little sleep, never enough time for all the details of rebuilding a city -- it kept him busy.

Busy enough that he didn't have to think about the past. Not until a ghost walked into his office, anyway.

~*~*~

Reeve blinked mildly at the long-haired apparition as it remained standing respectfully before his desk. "It's been a while," he finally said, setting down his pen and straightening up in his chair. His back creaked and spasmed in protest. "I thought you were..."

"Dead?" the apparition supplied, not quite smiling. "A useful deception to perpetuate for a time."

"Mmmh, I can see how that would be the case," Reeve replied. "And yet..."

"I know," the dead man said. "I left things unfinished. Terribly unprofessional of me."

The corners of Reeve's eyes crinkled as he smiled and shook his head. "To say the least. Still, it's not like you to lie low through a crisis."

The apparition's smile was bitter. "I did not truly have a choice."

Rising from his chair, Reeve moved around his desk to stand in front of the other man. Silently, he studied the calm, smooth features, noted the apparent lack of wrinkles (he'd acquired far too many of his own, this past year), the long, black hair combed neatly in exactly the style he remembered. The suit was impeccable as well; from the crease of the collars of shirt and jacket, to the straight and narrow tie, to the neatly pressed trousers that hung better than they had any right to.

It all served to remind Reeve how terribly scruffy he'd become. Not that a ghost should mind, one way or the other, but he hated to be reminded that he'd seen better days.

Reaching out, he laid his ink-stained fingers gently against the man's cheek. Depthless black eyes slid closed at his touch. There was warmth beneath his fingers, skin soft and supple. His fingers slid down to rest against a beating pulse and his own heart skipped into a strange new rhythm.

"Tseng," he whispered. "Forgive me. I didn't dare to hope."

Opening his eyes, the former leader of the Turks smiled at the mayor of Neo Midgar. "It would have been foolish of you. You never were a fool, though you were overly fond of playing one."

Reeve chuckled. "A bad habit, I admit, but when there was no other path for action..."

Tseng shifted his feet but didn't step forward. "And now?"

"Now...?" Reeve echoed curiously.

"It seems to me," Tseng said, his voice so low that Reeve had to lean in to hear him, "That you have forgotten how to live."

He flinched at that, his eyes sliding closed as he shook his head. "You always knew me too well."

Warm hands slid across his chest, startling him into opening his eyes. Tseng was smiling, a tiny, mysterious smile that held too many shades of pain. "Shall I remind you?" the Turk asked, removing Reeve's already loosened tie.

"Please," the mayor replied. And yet he hesitated to reach for Tseng, to mar that otherworldly perfection with his too human hands.

Tseng chuckled. "You're the only one still here. It's midnight, you know."

The witching hour. Stranger things than ghosts had appeared in Midgar.

"I am quite real," Tseng reassured him. His hands slid beneath Reeve's shirt, running up over his shoulders and tugging gently.

"I should have read this in the cards," Reeve murmured, setting aside his reservations and helping Tseng out of his jacket and tie.

"Your fortune telling never was that accurate."

Familiar hands moved faster now, impatient to bare skin.

"Except when it was ironically accurate," Reeve said, with a tired smile.

His trousers fell around his ankles, and Reeve told himself to forget the damn window -- it was too grimy to see through anyway, even if there was anyone bored enough to peer in to his third floor office.

He closed his eyes, so he could forget, so he could remember. The feel of these hands, strong and calloused, long fingers that were never delicate but always talented; the scent of clove cigarettes and coffee, gunpowder and spice. A fall of hair like silk, thick and dark and the _sounds_ \-- the soft, deep, growling purr he could evoke when he knotted his fingers in that hair.

Tseng's lips found his, softer than they had any right to be, parting before the hesitant exploration of his tongue. With a soft groaning sigh of his own, Reeve gave in and fucked Tseng's mouth with his tongue while he pulled the other man close and ground their hips together. Strong hands ran across his back, down to his buttocks and Tseng was chuckling, deep in his throat, when he broke their kiss.

Tracing a wet trail down Reeve's pale skin with his tongue, Tseng went down on his knees.

 _"Executive pacifier?" he remembered asking the first time._

There had been mirth in Tseng's dark eyes. "Only for you."

Reeve leaned back against his desk, moaning as Tseng's mouth closed around him, hot and wet. Long fingers wrapped around the base of his cock as a flickering tongue teased the tip.

"Tseng..." he whispered, almost reverently, and felt the other man's lips curve in a smile around him.

Language broke down and was discarded like so much rubble on the side of a Midgar highway. He ceased to think, to weigh, to analyze and quantify, and gave in to the purity of sensation. Trembling between the fingers that teased his ass and the mouth that teased his cock, he heard only the rush of blood in his ears and the heavy, uneven breath in his chest, drowning out thought and reason. There was nothing but sensation; the fire in his veins and the impatience for that moment where everything dissolved into nothing but _pleasure_.

It came too quickly, swept over him far more deeply than he could measure, and he arched into his lover with an aching, wordless cry.

"Been a while, has it?" Tseng said, sounding amused, as he rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around Reeve.

Language felt a long way away. He groped for it, fell short, and muttered, "No idea..."

The silk of a dress shirt whispered across his bare chest as he pushed himself upright. "You're still dressed," he protested. Mild annoyance shortened the distance between his brain and his tongue.

Tseng smiled. "You were impatient. Please, allow me to escort you home."

Reeve raised one eyebrow at him. Tseng stepped aside so he could pull up his trousers. "And then?" he asked the Turk.

"And then," Tseng echoed slowly, his eyes dark and intense, "I'll have to see what else you might need to be reminded of."

"Ah," Reeve murmured, glancing down at his shirt buttons as he did them up, "I think... I might enjoy that." Leaving his tie on the floor, he waited for Tseng to retrieve his jacket. "But I also think I'm not the only one who might need reminding."

"Perhaps you're right," Tseng agreed. "You always did know me too well."


End file.
